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Little town, kind people

I was talking to Penny this morning. Until three weeks ago she worked at one of the nicest shops in the town. If you needed a present or some ornament for yourself or your home, that’s where you looked first. It had been run for more than twenty years by Tony, with initial input from his brother. Last summer, Tony and his wife Mary were involved in a road accident with a Ministry of Defence vehicle, and Tony did not survive.

Mary decided to sell the business, and the new people took over about a month ago. It so happened that the Sage was their first customer, buying wedding anniversary cards for our children.

Penny always used to call into Al’s shop early, on her way into work, so I’d missed seeing her since her retirement, but she came in today. She says she’s finding it hard to adjust, but her house is very clean… And she still can’t bear to go into the shop, although she wishes the new owners well.

She had heard, however, about the warm welcome they have received. Steve, at the restaurant next door, went in the first lunchtime bearing welcoming glasses of wine. People have called with cards and messages of goodwill. They were deeply touched. The town they used to live in, only a few miles away, isn’t like Yagnub*.

Penny was not at all surprised. In the week of the anniversary of Tony’s death, many people took the trouble to call in, just to say that they remembered, and were thinking of him.

No, I wasn’t one of them. I’m not that thoughtful, and I’m from a larger town. It wouldn’t come naturally.

I have been in to welcome the new owners though. It was my friend Lynn’s birthday this week and I bought a wooden pestle and mortar from Bali and a carved wooden horse from the Philippines for her – both of which I rather wanted to keep…

You are on the smart side of Norfolk now, Dave. Would it have been All Hallows? It’s an Anglican convent.

Boy, we don’t even have a post office now in our village. When we moved here there was a garage, a shop/post office, a church, a school and a pub. The last three remain, and are actually doing better than 20 years ago.

Most of the shops are owner-run and we have very few chain stores, and most of those are small local ones. Also, a lot of people live in the middle of town, where there are some beautiful old houses.

It always astonishes us, how many people call in with cards and presents for Al and his staff at a key moment of the year (not mentioning it three months early). And Ronnie brings the staff chocolate every week. So does Kit Kat Connie.

The Unobservant Eye of Z

Dramatis personae:
My husband, Lovely Tim or LT for short (though he is actually tall).
My late husband, the Sage, aka Russell.
My children: Dearest daughter Weeza, who has London Ways, is married to Phil. Their daughter is Zerlina Buttercup and their son is Augustus Bufo. Elder son - Al X, is married to Dilly. Their children are Squiffany Virgilia, Maximus Pugsley and Hadrian Swallow. Younger son - Ro married to Dora and their two-year-old is Rufus Russell.
Big Sister: Wink. She lives in Wiltshire, 230 miles away, but we're much closer than that.
We live with our cat Eloise, a black tortoiseshell half-Ragdoll.
Bantams live in the garden and cats live in the barns but we feed them and they have ambitions to be pets too. In addition, cows come to visit in the summer. Mostly, they stay in the fields. None of them has got a hoof in the door yet.
There is an annexe to the house, where Roses lives and her beloved, Lawrence, spends a lot of time there. Her son, Boy, lives there too.

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Updating takes too much memory, sorry - but then I'm not very young any more, so am hanging on to the memory I've got. Please don't look for any significance in the order - I'm not drunk but I am disorderly.

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Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?